


He Is...

by DragonGirl420



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-03-02 04:38:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18803869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl420/pseuds/DragonGirl420
Summary: A series of shorts that explain just what Dean Winchester is to you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are drabbles I write when I feel like I need Dean Winchester.

## He is my dream.

I’ve always found comfort in him. In all my daydreams and fantasies, he shows up and takes me far away from whatever current crisis I’m feeling.

Today is no different. I close my eyes and wish…

I could hear the roar of the engine coming down the lane. Just under it, the familiar sound of a Zeppelin song.

He pulls into the driveway and leaves the Impala running, driver’s side door wide open. He almost jogs to the front door and damn near kicks it open.

That’s when he finds me. A broken heap on the floor covered in the remnants of old, tired tears.

“I’m so sorry baby. I should have been here sooner.”

He kneels beside me and helps me to my feet. He can see how broken I am, spiritually and emotionally yet physically fine. He takes my face in his hands and leaves a longing kiss on my temple before his strong arms envelop me.

Without a word we walk to the front door and sees that I’m shivering. Not from the cold air but from the everlasting chill my life had been. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders before guiding me to my waiting chariot.

She’s radiantly beautiful in the afternoon sun. The scent of her interior…  _Smells just like him…_  Brings the first smile I felt in months.

He slides back into the car, slams his door and goes to turn the music down. I place a hand over his.

“Leave it. This is a good one.”

Going To California continues to play as he turns his head to look at me.

“Its gonna be bloody, dangerous… Sure this is what you want?”

I nod slowly and lean over to kiss him softly.

“If I’m with you, I can handle anything.”

That’s when he smiles, puts the car in reverse and takes me away from the place of pain I had been living in for years.

 


	2. He is my Savior

Its night time again and the nightmare comes. I must have been tossing and turning because he wakes up and places an arm around me and pulls me in close.

His full lips press to my temple and in his sleepy state, he mutters some kind of comfort. I can’t make the words out, but his voice is enough to soothe me.  
  


The light of dawn trickles in and when I wake, he’s gone. Panic sets in and I think I’ve finally driven him away, just like everyone else. My panic and anxiety have finally made him leave.

The sting of tears prick at my eyes and I want to sink into the nothingness where my heart used to reside. But that’s when the door opens and he’s there. Breakfast in hand and a grin that denotes he’s happy to see me.

I swipe at the emotion filling my eyes, hoping he doesn’t notice. But he does. He always does.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Nightmares again?” He asks as his hand lovingly caresses my face. “I warned you it would be bloody. Monsters–”

I grab his hand from my cheek and bring it to my lips, kissing it softly, then pull him into me.

He doesn’t try to stop me.

“No. The only thing I’m afraid of is that you’ll leave. Everyone leaves.”

He chuckles, wraps both of his arms around me and lays back against the headboard. The feeling of his hands on my skin is soothing, despite his rough and calloused fingers. He causes a ripple of goosebumps and a flash of heat between my thighs. That’s something only he can do…

“Not me. I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. “I couldn’t. This life just ain’t worth it if you’re not with me.”

His sincerity is unwavering and the love he wears on his sleeve, undeniable. He kisses me then and makes me forget about the nightmarish images that plague my sleep. And then, after, when the sheets are tangled with our sweaty bodies, he tells me he loves me. That this is just the start of everything.


	3. He is my Comfort

Most days, I’m ok. Most days, I can get out of bed and function. I can be a friend, a partner, a lover… most days.

Today isn’t one of those days. Today, it’s like a lead weight has been placed on my chest forcing me to stay in bed. Curled up and crying like a lost child. To make things worse. Today, I’m alone. 

I keep the phone clutched in my hand, not for any reason specifically, but because why not. I won’t call him, not now. He already does so much for me. He loves and protects me, has rescued me from a life of crushing depression; I can’t bother him with this, too.

The loss I feel today is overwhelming; it’s hitting me hard. Friends, family… those who have perished before their time seems unGodly unfair. But I won’t call him because he’s out saving people, hunting things. That comes first. It has too. 

The phone comes to life in my hands. Of course, it’s him. He can feel me hurting from a hundred miles away. Because he loves me and we’re connected in this kind of way.

“I’m coming home,” he says softly. “I’ll be there before you know it,” was how he greeted the call. All I could do was inhale sharply at the sound of his voice.  “Two hours tops.”

“Ok,” I managed to say, but he understands the weight of how I feel because he has lost just as much. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He already knows.

“Just stay with me, ok? I’m gonna lay the phone down, but not hang up.”

I repeat the above affirmation and lay with the phone pressed against my ear in the bed we share. He’s driving and singing along to Zeppelin IV. I can hear the little guitar riffs he’s doing under his breath, and the occasional beat of his fingers against the wheel as a drum solo kicks in. We don’t have to talk. Just having him on the line is comfort enough.

I doze off, and finally, feel relief from the waves of ache my heart has been muddling through. A noise brings me back, snapping my eyes open to the realization the phone’s gone silent. Before the sadness even has a moment to slip back into my veins, I feel him next to me. His lips brush against my cheek as his arm wraps around my body, pulling me as close to him as I could possibly get. 

“Hey,” he breathes softly into my ear, with it a kiss on my neck. “Go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sing me something, please,” I whisper as I burrow myself into his chest.

He chuckles. I know he hates it when I ask, but he knows it helps. As my eyes start to fall heavily, I can feel the vibration of his chest as he indulges me in the song.

  



	4. He is my Distraction

It’s late. He is exhausted. The hunt had taken far longer than expected and the poor guy just needed to sleep. His clothes were bloody, and somewhere in the back of the car, there was a bag of laundry of garments that looked similar and needed attention.

He always takes special care of me. Now it’s my turn to care for him. I tell him to drop me at the all-night laundry mat, and for him to go get some shut eye. There’s a long drive ahead tomorrow where I can sleep so, I offered to take the overnight shift to get shit done. 

He doesn’t want to leave me alone, but I tell him its okay, I’ll be fine. He reluctantly agrees. I hate to watch him drive away–doesn’t matter if it’s for two hours, two days or two weeks–I miss him already.

The laundromat is cold and lifeless, a creepy echo of my shoes bouncing off the machines as I make my way through. After some hours trickle by, the sound of the washer is all I have, providing a soundtrack to the slew of depressive and anxiety-riddled thoughts that want to come… The time before he found me in that house, lonely and broken, flashbacks to the people who left me that way. Thoughts of people I loved who are now gone and only live behind my closed eyes, bring the sting of tears that can be mentally derailing. 

But not tonight. Tonight, I shake it off so I can simply take care of him while he rests and not be plagued with ghosts. I direct my phone to music and hit shuffle; anything would be better than the repetitive motion of the wash cycle to distract me. 

Toto. Africa.

He hates this one, or so he claims, but I’ve seen him singing from the side of his mouth when it comes on in the car and that brings a smile to my face. Thoughts of him in general, bring a smile. Even when he isn’t near me, his image is enough to soothe me. I turn it up and start to sing along, dancing across the linoleum as I do. 

The volume was loud enough that I never heard the door open, or the footsteps approach from behind. I didn’t realize he was there until I caught a faint whiff of his soap. When his hands slid around my waist I wasn’t surprised or scared. I leaned back into him just as his lips pressed to that place on my neck he loved so much. When the chorus kicked in, he whirled me around and sang out loud until I couldn’t stop laughing.

_“It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you  
There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do  
I bless the rains down in Africa  
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had”_

“Thought you hated this song…”

“Not when I find you moving around to it like that.”

“Noted. You should be sleeping.”

“I can’t sleep when you’re not there. Thought I would come distract you instead.”

He kisses me. His hands lightly run over the fabric of my shorts, the only clean pair I have, and he gets that look in his eyes. He pulls me from the voyeurism of the front windows and towards the back of the laundromat. It’s there he distracts me completely, in only the way that he can. He’s the only man… only  _person_ , that ever truly could know what I needed, wanted, or yearned for. 

He makes my head spin as fast as that dryer cycle with every touch, and when the buzzer goes off, so does he; we are both left panting and satisfied. 

“Laundry’s done,” he teases and kisses me again. 

Later, when we are snuggled in the back seat of the car, the scent of dryer sheets and take out burgers heavy in the air, he kisses my head. He tells me, in his own way, that he loves me as we drift off to sleep; happily distracted, dreaming about Africa. 

[Originally posted by jamiedornaniseverything](https://tmblr.co/ZzK75b2WgSqlT)

 

 


	5. He is my Protector

When your past rears its ugly head and comes barreling through your door, it’s hard to reconcile your new life with your old one. Especially when that old life is ugly and streaked with scars that run so deep, you feared they would never heal.

A hundred miles outside of my old home town, and I could feel the anxiety building in my throat like molten lava. Knowing that I am within this many miles of the place where I nearly lost my mind and my soul sat heavy upon me the entire trip. I rode in the back this time, letting the brothers hash out what they needed to in order to get in and get out; so we could all get home. 

Fifty miles now. He checks on me as we passed the first indicator with the town’s name on it, printed in its stark white letters against the neon green of the laminated road sign. He smiles softly. Its the smile that no one else gets to see; the one he reserved solely for me. He knows this is hard but promised that no matter what, it would be okay. 

When he pulls the car into the vacant spot outside of the bar, he twists his body around, eyeing me carefully.

“If you wanna go, Sammy can–”

“No, it’s fine. I need to do this.” I held up to his scrutiny and he turned back, killing the engine and exiting the car. 

When I stepped out, he took my hand and held it, preventing me from walking away. His little brother knew the weight of this for me, too, and gave us a moment alone. 

His thumb rubbed the back of my hand and when I met the loving gaze his green eyes cast on me, he smiled. 

“In and out. I promise.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Being here can’t be easy, and when you see them–”

“I don’t care anymore, because I have you.”

“Damn right you do. That ain’t never gonna change, sweetheart.”

He kissed me with purpose and when he placed a hand to my cheek, the residual chasm of scars left by the people inside didn’t feel so deep. 

“One more thing,” he said, his hand still on my face. “Let them say one thing, try to even talk to you sideways and I promise to shut them right down. You’re my girl now, just like you always should have been. And no one messes with my girl.”

He had a way of making me feel brave. The way he looked at me and believed in me; the way he loved me… he made me believe I was strong enough, that I could walk into the place that nearly broke me, with my shoulders back and my head held high. That I could go and confront my past and be able to withstand the debris that flew at me afterward. 

From the day he rescued me from the pit of existence I had been living in, I never imagined I would be there again. I hadn’t planned on facing my past, or the scars that were still invisible to the naked eye. But the seething belly of the evil that lived under the surface forced me too, and having him by my side meant that I would be safe and have the courage to do what was necessary. 

He always kept me safe. From monsters, and from people. Mostly, he protected me from the lingering agony that old life imprinted on my soul, and from losing myself to the darkness that always felt like it was looming.

“Ready?” he asked and left out his hand for me to take.

I placed my hand in his without hesitation. “As long as you’re here, I’m ready for anything.”

He pulled me in snugly, a feeling I could never, ever tired of. Then he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and kissed the side of my head. As we slowly made our way into the bar where I first met him, he grinned down at me, beaming with pride and mumbled, “That’s my girl.”


End file.
